Dregs at the Bottom of the Glass
by ncfan
Summary: "Wound to the pride," Yumichika commented, eyes opaque over the glass of sake he'd just been handed. "Runs a hell of a lot deeper than those cuts ever could." Gen. Spoilers for 206.


**Characters**: Yumichika, Ikkaku, with mentions of Kenpachi and Yachiru.**  
Pairings**: None.**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Chapter 206.**  
Timeline**: Pre-manga; the time of the flashback in 206.**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

Yumichika resisted the urge to roll his eyes—and failed—at the groan that came from across the small, thatched shack he and Ikkaku were sharing.

"Quit your whining," he rebuked mildly, standing in front of the cracked, tarnished mirror to make sure his hair wasn't sticking up anywhere. "You're lucky you came out with your head still attached to your body, Ikkaku."

Ikkaku laid on one of the straw mats at the back of the shack; Yumichika had put salve and bandages on the many lacerations on his body, and if Ikkaku had been any more bandaged, he would have looked like one of those Egyptian mummies Yumichika had heard so much about. There was a decidedly irked, sullen expression on Ikkaku's face.

The defeated man rolled on to his side, face contorting in pain as he did so. "Next time I meet that man," he muttered, "things are going to be different. Next time—" Ikkaku's face showed nothing short of steely resolve "—I'm not going to lose."

That was one point Yumichika was more than willing to contend with his friend.

Yumichika smiled slightly, in an unpleasant sort of way, without turning away from the mirror; Ikkaku could see the smile in the mirror's reflection. "You know, Ikkaku, I had a feeling—no, I was _certain_, that you would lose this fight. The only thing I wasn't certain of was if you would be dead or alive at the outcome.

Ikkaku's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, yeah? And just _why_ were you so sure I'd lose, Yumichika?"

A thin-lipped, humorless smile graced Yumichika's decidedly feminine face. "Because, while you were out in the woods practicing, I had the pleasure of watching Zaraki Kenpachi enter this village—and kill the first man who bothered him and that little girl of his with one well-aimed punch."

"You bastard! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because, Ikkaku, if I had, you wouldn't have believed me, and even if you had, would it have stopped you?"

Ikkaku snarled and turned his back on Yumichika, who smiled slightly, and tightened the hair tie at the back of his head. "Ikkaku, I know what'll cure any pain you've got. The local tavern has good sake; you'll like it."

Ikkaku didn't get up.

"Are you coming, Ikkaku?"

No answer.

Yumichika huffed and started to walk out the doorway. "Fine, fine. I'll go by myself. I'll be back some time before dawn; I'll see you then, Ikkaku."

.

The sake was exactly to Yumichika's taste, smooth going down his throat. He held the saucer in his long-fingered hand, staring down at the liquid pensively as he sat at the bar.

The atmosphere of the tavern was not the best Yumichika had ever experienced, mainly because it was run-down and probably didn't have more than a dozen people in; the crowded taverns always had the best feel to them. The high quality of the sake more than made up for it.

Didn't quite make up for the company, though.

A voice sounded beside him, tipsy, blurred and lascivious. "Hey, gorgeous, you wanna come back to my place tonight?"

"Excuse me?" Yumichika demanded indignantly, whirling around and glaring at the man to his right; he knew his voice, while not particularly deep for a man's, would settle matters. He knew he wasn't the most masculine looking man around, but really…

The drunkard next to him seemed to immediately realize his mistake, that the person sitting next to him was not a good-looking, flat-chested woman but rather an extremely effeminate man, who was glaring fiercely at him, a facial expression that promised bloody murder if he didn't back off quickly. A hurried nod of the head, a chagrined apology and a quick and hasty exit was what the drunkard managed.

Yumichika's lavender eyes glazed over, as he stared into nothing.

Ikkaku had thought he was a woman, the first time they had met. In fact, much like the departed drunken man (and many other men who had mistaken Yumichika for a woman), Ikkaku had propositioned him when they first met. Yumichika had found the whole thing much more amusing then than he did now; needless to say, Ikkaku was not as amused.

The bartender came over, peering intently at Yumichika before recognizing him; he and Ikkaku had been at the tavern the past two nights, together.

"Hey, pretty boy, I heard your friend took on the Kenpachi. Is that right?"

Yumichika nodded languidly, putting down his saucer to be refilled and smiling coolly at the bartender. "Yes, he did." The dark-haired man frowned, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "And what do you mean, _the_ Kenpachi? Why are you calling him _the_ Kenpachi?"

The bartender snorted, an incredulous look coming over his face. "What, Madarame didn't know? "Kenpachi" is the title given to the strongest Shinigami of the generation. I'm not sure, but I think this one's either the tenth or the eleventh."

"That would explain why he lost." Yumichika groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hey, can I get some more of your sake?"

"Sure. Where is Madarame, anyway? Kenpachi didn't kill him, did he?"

"No." Yumichika shook his head, vividly remembering the speech Kenpachi had delivered to them while leaving; it had been of survival and defeat, how no loss was a loss until the death blow was delivered. It had been an…_interesting_ lecture, to say the least. "Ikkaku's injuries aren't that bad; just a few lacerations. They bled a lot, but he's not too badly hurt. He could walk around if he felt like it," Yumichika added in a mumble, disappointed that the bartender didn't hear.

Said bartender handed Yumichika a fresh glass of sake. "So why isn't Madarame here, then?"

"His wound hurts too much," came the terse reply.

"I thought you said he wasn't all that hurt. And didn't you say he had more than one injury?"

"Not a physical wound. It was a wound to the pride," Yumichika commented, eyes opaque over the glass of sake he'd just been handed, "that did my friend in. Runs a hell of a lot deeper than any of those cuts ever could."

Yumichika swept the ground as he got to his feet and put a few coins on the bar table.

"We'll be leaving in the morning," he called absently as he started to walk out of the tavern. "Ikkaku's still got a score to settle—as do I—and we know just where to go, to learn what we need to to settle that score."


End file.
